


The Truth Is (Odds Are One In Seven Remix)

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Remix, spn_remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-12
Updated: 2008-08-12
Packaged: 2018-10-20 20:26:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: Dean bullshits. A lot.





	The Truth Is (Odds Are One In Seven Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [dean on crutches](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/284751) by MCEE. 



> um, so, it's been a year and this needs to be posted so I can link that it was in a remix. D'oh.

1\. the version that gets them free pie

They're in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, and their waitress is just about as old as the state. Her hair is almost truly blue, and she wears a floral patterned dress that Sam thinks hasn't been seen in stores since Laura Ingall's time. She's nice and sweet, and as soon as she gets to their table, she's cooing over Dean and his ankle.

"What happened, honey?" she asks, Sam wonders if she's even seen him.

"Well," Dean starts, and Sam rolls his eyes. He might not know what Dean's going to say next, but he knows it'll be a lie, and a big one at that. It'll get them free pie, though. "I was going back to our hotel room the other night, and I kinda saw this scuffle in an alley. There was a girl, and this guy was going at her, and you know, I just couldn't let that happen. I took care of him for her, made sure she was all right. Got this in the process."

Dean finishes the story with a smile that could charm the gold from a leprechaun's pot. Sam rolls his eyes again when the waitress fusses some more. He was right, though. When their bill comes, there's a piece of pie with it, on the house.

2\. the version that makes them look badass

It's late, and the bar is dead. It's been dead all night, but now it's just down to them, the bartender, and the late fall Colorado wind. Sam's poring over some notes that Bobby gave them last time he saw them, right after Dean got hurt. Dean doesn't want anything to do with them, not on the off chance that just looking could break the deal he made.

So they're still in the bar, and Dean's half-flirting with the bartender, though she has to know he's watching Sam even closer. Sam's not paying too much attention to her, though, so he doesn't know for sure.

He stops reading when she asks Dean about his foot, glancing up under his bangs to watch Dean bullshit this story.

"Sammy and me, we were up in the Rockies rock climbing a few weeks back. We do that every couple weeks, you know," Dean tells her, and she nods along like she does. "And we got to this really hard leg, one we'd been warned about and decided to try."

Sam's not sure where his brother learned any rock climbing lingo and is actually a little impressed, despite his urge to roll his eyes about the long and involved stories Dean has a tendency to spin.

"Anyways, I'm on lead, and there's this bit that looks loose, but it holds when I test it, so I get up above it. And when I step," Dean pauses, "it goes out. I twisted my ankle trying to get a new toe hold, and by the time me'n Sammy got back down, it was all swollen up. Had to walk a couple miles back to the car, too," he tells her.

Sam snorts, but Dean and the bartender ignore him. Yeah, and it was uphill in snow both ways, Sam thinks.

3\. the version that's supposed to endear him, but doesn't

They're in line at the IGA when the girl in front of them asks about Dean's ankle. She's got a kid on one hip, and when she opens her wallet, she's got a bunch of food stamps in it. The food on the counter is all essentials: diapers and apple juice and oranges and green beans.

Dean shrugs. "Just doin' my job."

Sam rolls his eyes and nudges their beer farther onto the conveyor belt so that he doesn't have to worry about it falling.

"Yeah?" she asks, shifting her kid and watching as the woman in front of her debates the cost of a box of crackers. "What d'ya do?"

"I'm a police officer over in Carson," he tells her, naming a city the passed seventy-five miles before they hit this one.

"Yeah?" she asks, her expression turning dark.

"Yeah. Some guys tried to rough someone up, and one ran when we went to see what was up. Hurt it goin' over a fence."

She still looks skeptical. "Y'all locked up my boyfriend. Left me with Tony here and no one to help out."

"Aww, now, ma'am, I only do my job," Dean tells her, back pedaling. Sam turns to look at the rag magazine rack so she can't see the smile he knows is on his face. One of Dean's stories finally backfired. It was nice to see.

"Yeah, but where does that leave me?" the young woman asks as the clerk finally convinces the woman ahead of them that the coupon she's trying to use expired in 1998.

Dean looks at a loss. "I don't know, ma'am, but if your boyfriend got caught doing something he shouldn't have…"

The girl snorts. "Yeah. Well." She turns to the lady in front of her. "Mrs. Bradley, I gotta get Tony home for his nap."

The old woman nods her head and stops bickering with the clerk. "He's not sick anymore, is he?" she asks.

"Nope. Doc looked at him for free, gave me some meds for cheap. He seems to be doing better."

"Delilah's not giving you too hard of a time about time off, now, is she?" the clerk asks.

"Naw. Mrs. Bradley told her to stop," the girl grins. The old lady smiles back.

When the girl's things have been rung up, she turns to Dean. "Look, I'm awful sorry you got hurt, but I can't say I wouldn't have been rootin' for the guy running."

Dean doesn't say anything, and Sam almost snickers. The clerk doesn't look either of them in the eye.

4\. the heroic version

They're sitting on a bench in the park across from their hotel. They're using someone's unsecured wireless, which, according to Sam, they can't get in the room. Dean doesn't understand—doesn't want to understand—and just wishes there had been a motel in town that had wireless.

Sam doesn't seem to mind sitting on the hard bench or the fall weather or noisy kids all around them. To tell the truth, Dean doesn't really mind either. It's beautiful out, and the trees around them are changing colors. It's after school now, and there's probably twenty kids playing on the play set and the area around them.

Sam offered to let Dean go back to the room, do something else, watch TV, but Dean said no. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam alone; it was just that he didn't trust Sam not to get kidnapped or killed while he was alone.

They've been there for a while when a little boy wanders towards them. He stays a good distance away for a little while before he ventures closer. Sam looks up long enough to dismiss him, but Dean smiles at him.

The boy smiles tentatively back. "Hey mister, how'd you hurt your foot?" he asks, stepping a little bit closer.

Dean grins. "Well, I'm a firefighter," he tells the boy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sam roll his. "And when I was working one night, there was a fire, and I had to go in and rescue a little boy. He was about your age."

The boy comes even closer as Dean talks to him. "Really?"

"Yeah. But on the way out, I tripped over something I couldn't see. But I had to keep going, and get out of the house, so I didn't stop even when it hurt," Dean finishes.

The boy stares at Dean with big eyes, near-hero worship shinning in them. "Wow. You're really brave, mister."

Sam chokes then, just a little sound, but enough that Dean glares at him before turning back to the boy. "Thanks, kid. You got a name?"

The kid nods, and it takes him a minute to realize he's supposed to tell it. Dean laughs inwardly, but he just smiles at the kid when he finally tells him his name. "Taylor."

"Well, Taylor, where's your mom? She know you're talking to me?" Dean asks. Sam looks up, giving Dean a weird look, then looks back down.

Taylor shakes his head, and Dean sighs. They really don't need a mad mother thinking anything bad about them. "You should go find your mom so she doesn't worry."

Just then, a woman hurries towards them. "I'm so sorry if he was bothering you," she tells them. She glances down at the boy. "You know better than to bother strangers, Taylor."

Taylor shrugs. "He was telling me about how he hurt his foot, Mom! He's a firefighter!"

When the lady looks up at him, Dean shrugs. "He wasn't bothering me, ma'am, honestly. I'm just waiting for him," Dean nodded to Sam, "to finish checking his email, so."

Taylor's mother smiles at him. "I'm glad he wasn't a bother. But it's time for dinner, so say good bye to the nice firefighter, Taylor."

Taylor grins at Dean, huge and with one front tooth missing. "Bye, mister! I hope your foot is better soon!"

Dean watches until the two are out of sight, a slight smile on his face. Sam doesn't say anything.

5\. the situation normal version

Sam makes them stop in at Bobby's not too long after it happens. Dean complains, but he struggles out of the car when they get there. He's hasn't been complaining, but Sam's been on crutches before, and he knows Dean has to be hurting.

Bobby comes out onto the front porch, watching as Sam follows Dean up to the steps. He doesn't say anything, but he's frowning. Sam rubs the head of Bobby's dog as it brushes against his legs, keeping his hands busy so he doesn't reach out to support Dean as he hobbles up the steps. Dean would quite possibly maim him if he did.

Bobby still doesn't say anything to them then, just nods and turns around to go back inside. The two follow him into his dusty living room, and Dean collapses onto the sagging couch.

Sam sits down next to him, careful not to watch him too much. If Dean thinks he's hovering, he's only going to try harder to prove he's fine. Sam doesn't really want that to happen, since it only makes it more difficult for him to do anything for Dean.

Bobby hands Sam a couple of texts, muttering something about demons and crossroads. Sam can see Dean tense and look away when he hears that, and so he only nods his thanks to Bobby.

There's an awkward silence for a moment before Bobby grins at them. "What'd you do this time?" he asks.

Last time, it had been Sam on crutches, and he had managed to fall out of a loft. Sam looks over at Dean, not sure what he's going to say this time. Dean leans back, shifting down on the couch farther. "It was during that run-in we had with a demon last week."

Bobby raises an eyebrow. "Thought you said it went fine?"

"It did. I got myself tangled up, and low and behold, crutches," Dean shrugs.

Sam almost snorts, but didn't, figuring Bobby would probably notice. The glance Dean shot him told him that his brother knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I didn't really realize it until the whole thing was over. I mean, I knew it hurt. Just, not that it was so bad." Dean raises his arms up, rolling his shoulders. "Man, I forgot how big of a bitch crutches were."

Sam makes a sound in the back of his throat—half agreement, half in the teasing way that only little brothers can.

6\. the version with accidental domestic violence

Dean bullshits some story to the desk nurse as Sam fills out the paperwork with this month's IDs. Dean's name is Don Airey this time, and Sam's Mitch Malloy. Sam grumbled a bit about the names—and about the fact that, thanks to Dean, he actually knows which bands the names were pulled from—but they're good IDs and have insurance cards to match.

Sam freezes when he hears Dean say something about falling down the stairs, making sure he knows exactly what he's saying in case they ask him as well. It doesn't take him too long to fill out the forms, since walk-in clinics keep it to a minimum, and pretty soon, Sam's helping Dean to a seat to wait his turn.

Dean has to tell Sam to stop hovering three or four times in the ten minute wait, and they're both more than aware of the desk nurse's curious gaze. Bozeman's a college town, so they can't be the first set of guys to wander in with a bullshit story.

When Dean gets called, Sam helps him to the exam room without making it too obvious, which keeps Dean from bitching too much. The nurse who brings them back asks Dean how it happened again, and partway through the story, Sam starts to catch her looking over at him every few seconds.

The nurse nods and leaves, telling them the doctor will be in shortly. When the doctor does come in, Sam groans because the doctor is an extremely good-looking guy. He asks for the story again, and around the same time he started noticing it with the nurse, Sam starts getting looks from the doctor.

He's not quite sure what it means, but it can't be good. The doctor nods and asks Dean to take his boot off so he can see the ankle. Sam bats Dean's hands away and unties it, and even though it had been done up loose, it's nearly tight now because of the swelling.

Dean bitches about it, and Sam rolls his eyes, but it's just a front. He knows both Dean and the doctor can tell because of his worried frown, and that Dean's worried, too, because he lets Sam run his hand across his and doesn't even glare about it.

The doctor tells Dean he doesn't think it's broken and stands up. He tells them he'll be back in a few minutes and to sit tight, glancing once more at Sam before he closes the door. Once the door is shut, Sam's up in Dean's space, and Dean only puts up a token protest.

Sam's very nearly holding Dean's hand when the doctor comes back in. He smiles at them, though it's a tight smile, and asks Sam if he wants to go fill out the rest of the paperwork now.

Sam looks over at Dean, nodding reluctantly. He hesitates right outside the door and hears the doctor.

"You wanna tell me about the bruise on your face? Or the scratch on your arm?"

Sam frowns at that, can hear the dawning realization in Dean's voice. "I work on cars, shit like that happens."

"Your sure? It's not something else? Not your partner?"

"No, shit, he'd never hurt me."

The nurse waves Sam forward, and he wants to groan. "Does your partner fall like this often?" she asks casually.

Sam rubs his forehead as he fills out the paperwork. "Yeah. You'd think he'd be graceful, the way he looks, but he can pretty ungainly. Unless you get him near a car. Then he always moves careful."

She nods and makes a noncommittal sound. Sam doesn't really know what to do, how to make it sound like he's not an abusive boyfriend. He stays quiet until Dean comes out on crutches, his foot wrapped.

The doctor hands him Dean's boot. "Just give me a few minutes to do the rest of the paperwork," he says.

They both nod and take a seat, then sit there silently. Once they finish and get out of the there, though, Dean hits Sam's leg with one of his crutches. "Dude, why do I always have to be the chick?"

Sam laughs, his hair falling into his eyes, and unlocks the car.

7\. reality

Sam's on his knees in the shower, lukewarm water cascading down his back. Dean's leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed and one hand fisted in Sam's wet hair.

The hunt they just finished was long and hard, and both of them had been exhausted for days. It was over now, though, and once the two of them stumbled through the door just before dawn, they collapsed onto the lumpy bed in their bright orange motel room.

They slept until noon—not very much sleep, but enough. Dean called Bobby while Sam made a foray to the vending machines. When he returned, he didn't have much, but they ate it all anyway.

Once their need for sleep was somewhat taken care of and their hunger sated for the moment, Sam turned on the shower. He stripped and then stripped Dean, pulling his brother into the small shower with him.

At first, they both just took turns standing under the spray, the water rinsing grave dirt and dust from their skin. It wasn't hot enough, but neither of them complained.

Sam's not exactly sure how he ended up on his knees after that, but now Dean's making a keening sound above him, low and in the back of his throat. Sam slides down a little bit more, moaning a little, his lips wrapped tight around his brother's cock.

He pulls back a little, reaching up and holding Dean's hips in place as he moves forward again. Dean shifts, slipping a little on the wet floor, and Sam's grip on his hips tightens in response. After Dean seems to get his balance back, Sam lets up on his hold.

It doesn't take long before Dean's on edge, whimpering Sam's name. Sam meets his eyes through his fringe of wet hair, and then Dean comes in Sam's mouth and down his throat, Sam swallowing around him.

Eventually, Sam lets go of Dean's hips, sitting back on his heels. That’s when Dean completely loses his balance and falls sideways out of the tub. Sam can't stop himself from laughing, even as Dean glares up at him from the floor.

"You all right?" Sam asks after he stops laughing.

Dean shrugs, pushing himself up. When he stands, he doesn't put any weight on his ankle, and Sam frowns, concerned. "There's a walk-in clinic in Bozeman," Sam says.

Dean makes a pained face. "I'm fine, I don't need to go there," he insists, even though he's leaning against the wall just to stay upright.

Sam shrugs and gets out of the shower, looping Dean's arm around his shoulders and helping him hobble out of the bathroom despite Dean's glares and protests. Listening to his brother bullshit his way through this one was going to be interesting.


End file.
